


Desperate Times

by Revival_Push



Series: The Light in this Tunnel [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Magic, Monsters, Sick Dean Winchester, Supernatural Elements, Witch Castiel, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revival_Push/pseuds/Revival_Push
Summary: Sam Winchester is running out of time.Dean's been bit by a monster they've never seen before and it's killing him. The only lead for a supernatural cure is a mysterious witch Bobby reluctantly directs him to, only the witch they find isn't the one he was looking for at all.





	Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

Dean wasn’t a dog person. They made him nervous as hell and were always covered in slobber and muck and shit. And then there was the smell.

But this monster had been on a whole other level of fugly. 

To be totally fair it hadn’t really looked much like a dog, something Dean could say with great authority now that he had had the thing plow him over and take a bite out of him. It’s shoulders were misaligned and what fur it had was marred heavily by dozens of open sores that littered it’s back and torso. There had been a very vivid moment where Dean realized that instead of a pair of eyeballs looking down at him there was a vast nothing. Not even a socket. Just void. 

They hadn’t even found the damn case themselves. Three days ago Dean received a text from an unknown number Sam had managed to trace back to a burner phone purchased at a mall in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. There was no guarantee the text had been sent by John Winchester, but they figured the chances that someone else using an unknown number decided it was a good idea to send Dean Winchester a set of coordinates that led to some mysterious and bloody shit was fairly limited. It’d been his messed up moda operandi before. So off they sped to east Jesus nowhere Virginia like the idiots they were, only to find nothing but a case. 

No dad in sight. 

There wasn’t even a freaking Starbucks. 

But Dean wasn’t complaining to Sam. After all, Dean was the one who dragged Sam back into this Shit. And the case hadn’t been that bad. Dogs made Dean nervous, but there was something nice about hunting down something that wasn’t wearing a human face. It was monster versus man, plain and simple.

But even the simple ones could go down wrong. So when Dean found himself flat on his back, surrounded by trees and darkness he had called out to his brother right up to the moment the warm, putrid breath of the beast washed over him.

And then his chest was on fire and everything was black.

He didn’t even hear the shot that saved his life.

Of course by then they had known it wasn’t a Black Dog or werewolf or some supersized mangy bulldog.

It was a Haunt. 

And it’s saliva was going to kill him. 

_ Here lies Dean Winchester.  _

_ Brother. Hunter. Badass.  _

_ Taken too soon from this Earth by a supernatural bacterial infection. _

At some point in time after the attack he did manage to wake up. Sort of. Loopy, but definitely conscious. For the time being. Sam kept giving Dean these looks and Dean kept brushing them off with increasingly shitty humor. 

Shit was bleak. What else was new?

“Fucking  _ chew toy _ .” Deam mumbled, but it didn’t really sound like words.

He must have blacked out again because the next thing he knew Sam was hovering over him with a cavern between his brows and a cell phone pushed against his ear. Dean couldn’t remember if it was their mom or their dad who had a forehead like that.

Probably dad.

“Dean? You with me here?”

Dean smacked his lips together. His whole body ached like he had spent the last year rolling down mountains. “M’not going anywhere.”

Sam looked at something in the distance, out of the car, Dean supposed dumbly. 

“Yeah, Bobby, I’m here. He’s awake now. I’ll call you when we get there, okay?”

Sam pressed the lock button on his phone and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “All right, Dean, come on. Up you go.”

The world tipped around Dean in a whirlwind of icy air that didn’t quite match up with the hot September sun that had been out in full force the day before.

-=-=-=-

When he came to Dean was lying across the back seat of the impala.  

“Hey, Sam?”

“Just hold on, Dean, we’re almost there.”

_ Almost where? _

-=-=-=-

The third time Dean rewoke to the world he was lying in a bed under a soft white sheet and a thick navy blanket. His body felt like it weighed maybe 800 lbs and his throat burned like hell, but he was awake. And maybe it hurt less, but fuck-all if Dean didn’t know which way was up right now. 

And then  _ he  _ walked into the room.

There was no beanie this time. Dean could see distinctively pointed ears peeking out from his messy brown hair.

“Good morning, Dean.” 

The fairy dude. Castiel. 

_ The fuck? _

Dean stared into the bottle glass blue eyes boring down on him. He wanted to throw his legs over the bed. He wanted a gun, knife,  _ something _ . “Where’s my brother?”

And then Sam comes barreling in, all concern and relief and placating hand gestures. Somewhere in between being poked and asked,  _ are you sure you feel okay? _ by Sam, Dean’s eyes found their way back to the figure watching them in the corner.

“What the hell, Sam.”

Sam spared a glance over his shoulder, but Castiel was looking at Dean.

“He’s the only reason you’re alive, Dean.”

“What did it cost?” Dean asked.

Dean had a feeling that whatever Castiel was wasn’t something looking for cash, and the look on Sam’s face was telling him a lot. 

_ Well, fuck. _

_ -=-=-=- _

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a message after the ___.


End file.
